


An Idea, a Breath, an Impulsive Request.

by Jem (letalloursingingfollowhim)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: A commission, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Dates, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letalloursingingfollowhim/pseuds/Jem
Summary: Frances Laurens and Philip Hamilton have their first date. A fluffy, modern universe fic.
Relationships: Philip Hamilton (1782-1801)/Frances Laurens
Kudos: 5





	An Idea, a Breath, an Impulsive Request.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commission for someone on Amino and I don't really like this fic as it's wayyy different from my usual stuff.

An idea, a breath, and the impulsive request of a freckled boy, to a blonde girl.

“You want to go on a date this weekend?” A simple question on the surface, but a question asked with such passion that it could be felt a mile away. The confident smile of the boy who had asked, the set stance in the middle of a crowded corridor with students passing in an array of colours. 

Philip Hamilton had had a deep crush on Frances Laurens for years. Now, at seventeen, he found it appropriate to ask the tall, blonde girl out on exactly what he’d wanted to do since he was ten- a date. Philip had been so incredibly apprehensive because she wasn’t the most emotionally open or sweet of people, more someone who stoically sat at the back of the classroom, answering a question once every so often. Philip, although practically polar opposite with the girl, had one thing in common: the fact neither had their fathers. Thinking about it made his eyes well up with tears a little, well up and make his eyes blur so he couldn’t quite see Frances anymore.

A smile, an immediate, intense, true smile washed over Frances upon the question; and then, another one passed over Philip’s mocha-brown skin. 

“Yes. Is Saturday okay?” Frances asked, her tone much lighter than Philip had ever heard from the girl before. She was still a little blurry now, but it was happy tears, shocked tears.

“Saturday it is!” Philip bounced, not saying much more for her reaction, and walking back to his locker, smiling to himself, a real, proud smile. 

And that was three days ago.

The restaurant Philip had finally texted to Frances later on the day they had agreed to go out, was a posh Italian restaurant. Philip had never had much of an affinity for the Italian cuisine, but he knew full well that it was Frances’ favourite food type. It wasn’t too bad- he liked spaghetti anyway!

The restaurant was gorgeous. It was out-of-this-word beautiful! Low hung crystal chandeliers giving off a red hue, light music played on the overhead speakers, not to mention how delicious the food looked and smelled. Pizza, pasta, bread. The sheer array of choice was a little overwhelming, even if he knew exactly what dish he wanted.

Waiting on Frances, he’d handed his coat to the usher and took a seat on their softly cushioned seats that he’d specifically booked. Philip was wearing his best clothes. It was his father’s old formal attire: a matte black blazer, a white undershirt with a deep blue tie, and then cobalt-coloured dress pants. He rarely wore the entire outfit together as it almost upset him to do so because it reminded him so much of his late father- Alexander Hamilton- and for the fact he rarely needed to go anywhere fancy almost ever. The Hamilton household was busy and messy. Philip was the eldest of seven children, so it wasn’t too easy for their mother- Elizabeth Schuyler- to take them anywhere, let alone anywhere fancy.

It took a few moments more of reminiscing on his mother, father, siblings, before he saw Frances flounce in, wearing the most beautiful dress he had ever been graced with the pleasure of seeing. It was silver and black, sleeves that came to her elbow and it shone in the red-light of the restaurant. Philip was speechless. Even as Frances made her way over to the table, it took all of his strength not to just stare at her. As she walked, her hair beautifully bobbed with each step she took. 

“You look...” he paused, searching for a word with enough depth behind it to show exactly how he felt. “You look wonderful,” he tried. The word didn’t have enough weight behind it but hopefully the date could make up for his lacklustre words. He flushed as she began to take her seat.

“As do you,” Frances grinned, picking up the menu. “How did you know Italian was my favourite?” she asked, her smile immediately widening as she spotted something on the page that made her eyes light up. “Fettuccine Alfredo,” she started, skimming her hand over the menu. “For two,” she finished, a brief nod, indicating that’s exactly what she wanted them to get to share.

Philip hated the sauce that came with it. He despised the taste. But, one meal he didn’t enjoy with his potential girlfriend would make up for his distaste towards the Italian dish. And maybe, he was desperately hoping, maybe he would like it this time. 

He did not. 

He did not like the pasta at all. As they awaited the arrival of their meal, Philip and Frances chose different topics of interest and then asked questions to each other about such. It was a good idea, it heavily cut back on the usual first date awkward silences. Philip found out so much! Frances’ favourite colour was green, she loved to read even if she hadn’t picked up a book in a while, like her father she had the trait of good art. Philip had happily explained his talent for the musical arts, such as piano, his passion for languages, and then gave Frances a taste of his almost fluent French, patting himself on the back for his effort to impress her. 

The aroma to the food was the first thing Philip noticed; the distinctly Italian scent that came from the pasta before them. He loved the smell, but only the smell.

“It looks delicious!” Frances spoke, her voice filled with joy.

“It does,” Philip agreed, trying to add as much joy into his tone as possible.

As Frances took a bite, he followed suit. He disliked it but not as much as he had the first time he’d tried something like that, each bite got slightly more and more tolerable to stand. It was salty and creamy; cheese was sprinkled all throughout it. As they ate the pasta, they barely talked, too hungry and transfixed on the quality of the food. Even if he had distaste toward the dish, it was hard to say the quality was bad- it wasn’t bad at all. It didn’t take too long before they were almost done, a few strands left, Philip still not enjoying the pasta too much. Then their forks met, and they picked up the same piece.

It took much too long before either of them realised what was happening, their faces became barely inches away all too quickly. Should he kiss her? Was that too much for a first date? But as they both continue to eat that one string of pasta, and their faces inched closer and closer together, Frances made the move. She kissed Philip. It wasn’t long, it wasn’t hard, it was brief but true, so extremely true. Afterward, they both sat back, a small amount of happy blush snaking across their face. This was going to work out!

“Thank you for this evening, Pip,” she smiled, nudging his hand on the table as she called him by his nickname.

Rolling his eyes, he laughed. “Thank you for making this the best night ever...” he paused slightly, trying to find a nickname to call her and failing. Instead of trying further, he picked up both her hands off the table. “Can we do this again next week?” he asked, hopeful. 

“Yes.” Frances responded with nothing else, happiness and excitement filling her as Philip kissed both of her hands.

“I can’t wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have quite a lot needed posting today, so that's what I'm doing!  
> This, a TURN: Washington's spies fic, a Hamilton musical fic, two Hamilton historical fics, and another modern Six fic. All which were written many many months ago.
> 
> -Li.


End file.
